


Black Sun

by AshNine



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Angst, Detectives, Drama, Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, F/M, Gen, Minor Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Obsession, Post-Canon, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24908266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshNine/pseuds/AshNine
Summary: Ever since the fall of Hope's Peak, and the escape of Junko Enoshima,  all detective Makoto Naegi can focus on is pinpointing her location. Thankfully, an anonymous tip might just be what he needs.
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Kudos: 15





	Black Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Death Cab for Cuties' "Black Sun".
> 
> For a gift fic exchange!

_There is an answer in a question  
And there is hope within despair  
And there is beauty in a failure,  
And there are depths beyond compare_

_There is a role of a lifetime  
And there's a song yet to be sung  
And there's a dumpster in the driveway  
Of all the plans that came undone_

\---

“We have a new lead.”

The brunette woke up with a start as the file folder slapped down on his desk, the blanket on his shoulders slipping from his frame and pooling on the floor. Makoto had fallen asleep at his desk once more, the late nights spent in the department usually ending in a similar fashion. Thankfully, this morning he was free of marking from spiral bound notebooks and there seemed to be no pens stuck to his face. All things considered, the man felt well rested.

“Ah! Thank you, Kyoko. Could you give me a quick run down?” 

The silver-haired woman nodded and sat neatly at the chair across the solid oak desk, taking the time to smooth out her skirt and cross her legs one over the other. Makoto found himself watching her slender form, legs bent at the knee and covered in dark pantyhouse, before flushing and quickly burying his nose in the file. The paper smelled of fresh ink and clean cut parchment, one of his favorite scents.

“It seems she was spotted outside of Towa City approximately twelve hours ago. Unfortunately, witness testimonies are in short supply since it was in the commerce district past 8 PM,” Kyoko explained cooly, sweeping her long hair over her ear and slipping her phone out of her pocket. “I received a text from the commissioner, but there isn’t much to go off of.”

Makoto squinted at the photo on the screen, fuzzy and dark. Though distorted and grainy, there was no mistaking the figure of Junko Enoshima, with her wide set hips and long fingers, topped with bright red nails. However, something seemed off about the photo, not quite matching what he’d taken note of in the year he’d known the criminal.

“Is she wearing...a long skirt?” Makoto pieced together.

Kyoko nodded. “I thought that was odd as well. We’ve never seen her without a mini-skirt, so I was sure it had to be someone else. But the commander wants us to follow with the investigation, just to be sure.”

Makoto pursed his lips before letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. Any at this rate, I’ll take even the smallest bite we get.” With care, he flipped through the report, which in itself was rather bare bones. It covered the information Kyoko had relayed and only expanded enough to give an approximate address where the photo could have originated and a slip of paper containing coordinates. "What's this?" 

"Our tip sent it in. They said she dropped it."

Makoto tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Do we have any contact with the tipper?”

She shook her head. “They wanted to remain anonymous.”

Groaning, he leaned back in his chair, the back squeaking at the sudden sharp movement. “Seriously? Again? I don’t get what people don’t understand here. This isn’t some petty thief we’re looking for,” he paused for a moment to rub his face with both hands. “She’s a terrorist.”

“I thought the same.” Kyoko’s smile was small and sad, no doubt showing her own frustration. 

“So, I guess we’re going out into the field?” Makoto moved to stand, wincing at the soreness in his lower back. He’d need to get some actual sleep for once. Lord knows what sort of spinal distortion was heading his way at this rate. 

“Thankfully, we’ve already apprehended our suspect.”

Face lighting up, Makoto slammed his hands excitedly against the desk and leaned forward. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?! This is outstanding!”

Kyoko chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “I thought I’d let you shake off the sleep before getting you riled up.” With a small breath, she rose and adjusted her pencil skirt once more. With the clack of her heels echoing through the office, she made her way to the door. “I’ll have her brought into the interrogation room at once.”

Makoto nodded, offering a closed lipped smile in the process. “Thank you. Really.”

Kyoko turned, meeting his gaze once more before offering back her own smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. With a voice perfectly monotonous to anyone else, but betraying the slightest hint of hesitation to Makoto, she answered back simply, “Of course. It’s the least I can do for you.”

Confused, Makoto opened his mouth to ask a question, her defenses not nearly thick enough to fool the detective. Instead, he let the question hang, unasked and unanswered, and moved to prepare for the questioning.

\---

This wasn’t Junko Enoshima. Makoto was sure of that the moment he stepped into the room and was met with someone not nearly fitting the poise and sex appeal that the model herself contained. Instead, a plain girl with clear blue eyes, thin framed glasses, and long blue hair sat in the hot seat, her wrists in handcuffs and attached to the heavy steel table.

The woman looked at him, uninterested, before she glanced at the one-way window across the room from her. “How many people are watching us right now?”

Makoto quirked his mouth to the side. “What?”

She huffed slightly before meeting his gaze once more. “I just want to know what sort of performance I need to put on. If it’s just you, I don’t mind being plain old me.”

Performance? Makoto shook his head, dismissing her ramblings. Plopping in the seat on the other side of the table, the detective placed his elbows on the surface and laced his fingers together, brows knit together tightly. “So, you’re Junko Enoshima?”

Immediately, the girl’s attitude flipped 180 degrees, her frown quickly replaced with a toothy grin. “But of course! But my subordinates call me the Ultimate Despair.”

“Mhm. And why should I believe you?” Makoto’s eyes narrowed. “Are you aware how many imposters we get a week?”

“Oh, please. Do you really think I’d choose to be detained and handcuffed to a table?” As if to prove her point, “Junko” rattled the steel around her wrists. “They’re not exactly comfortable, and I have places to be.”

“Right.” Makoto studied her for a moment, taking in the woman’s mannerisms. Everything about her read as an Enoshima move, from the pattern of speech to the clever way she surveyed chinks in the detective’s armor. With a certain coolness to her, it was impossible to differentiate the two, minus the obvious differences in their looks. Maybe they'd finally caught their prey. 

“Alright Ms. “Enoshima,” might you enlighten me about what you were doing in the commerce district last night? You must be aware that it's a restricted area post 6 PM.”

“Oh, that’s all you wanted to ask?” She scoffed. Jingling her cuffs, she added, “Isn’t this a bit overkill?”

Makoto frowned. “Answer the question.”

“I’m sure you’d love to know my intentions, Detective Naegi. But my lips are sealed.” She made an effort to mime locking her lips and throwing away the key, albeit in an awkward manner. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to break my promise to a good friend! Plus, I doubt you’d want to hear that dull old story anyway.”

Ah yes, the infamous “cutesy” voice. Makoto couldn’t deny it, she was putting on one hell of a performance. Instead of taking her bait, he leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m in no rush to be anywhere. This is on you.”

“Oh my, aren’t we in a bit of a mood today?” She smirked, obviously attempting to push his buttons. “What happened to the mild mannered Makoto from high school?”

“And what happened to my classmate to have her turn to terrorism?” he retorted.

“Little Naegi isn’t a small fry anymore! Just look at how wonderfully you’ve hatched.” “Junko” leaned forward as best as she could, meeting his stare dead on, her expression full of glee. “What a fascinating turn of events. I never thought I’d see the day when you became a man.”

Makoto smirked for a moment before shaking his head. “And to think, all it took was you blowing up our school and the Towa City Youth Massacre.”

“Oh please,” blue eyes rolled as she scoffed. “You can’t blame me for all of this. Sure, I got the ball rolling, but what about everyone else that took part? All of the children? I merely provided an outlet for all of their pent up frustration. Isn’t that all we want as people? To be at ease?”

“What a funny thing to hear from the mouth of a serial killer. Never a dull moment with you, is it? You're sick of you think the world functions like that."

“How amusing, coming from you,” she laughed under her breath. “So, what now? Are you going to throw me into the slammer and let me rot for my itty-bitty wittle crimes?” She narrowed her eyes for a moment, letting her voice drop. “You know that won’t accomplish anything.”

“Is that what you really think? You’re overdue in justice. You’ll be lucky if they let you live out your sentence.” Makoto furrowed his brow, attempting to keep his cool.

“Seems like I’ve gotten under your skin, haven’t I?” The woman learned on the table, her face flushing and fogging up her glasses, her breath growing quicker. “You know it’s useless. You know it won’t bring them all back. You know it won’t stop the killing. The fun’s just begun after all!”

“STOP!” Makoto slammed his hands on the table, standing up and pressing his face close to the convict’s. “That’s right. It won’t bring them back, but you know what? I’ll finally sleep better knowing you’re rotting in a cell by yourself.”

“Oh yes, feed into that despair! You’re so adorable when you’re all ruffled like that.” She giggled, the humor quickly growing into a full outburst of laughter, before suddenly cutting off. “Face it, you’re no better than me, Makoto.”

“I’m nothing like you,” he spat. Itching to move his hands, he clenched and unclenched his fists, his agitation slowly rising.

“Of course you’d say that. You don’t want to be anything like me, but you need to face the music someday. We’re all human and we all crave the inevitable fall of it all,” she boasted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know even you’re not that lucky.”

Makoto grit his teeth. “What were you doing in the commerce district?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was just visiting a friend?” “Junko” cocked her head. “How about a deceased loved one? Perhaps planning on trading in my stocks?” She hummed for a moment before closing her eyes. “Even I’m not exempt from boring mundane tasks.”

“Like hell I’m believing that. Look-” Makoto slipped a paper out from his pocket and slammed it on the table. “What are these coordinates?”

“Oh, you found my secret plans!” She sat up straight, a glimmer of pride on her face. “It seems we must be more careful in the future.”

“There is no future where you’re headed. What are the coordinates?”

“I’d have thought you’d have investigated them by now, Macutie.” She gasped, an animated and forced action. “Are you slacking?”

Makoto could feel his boiling point reaching its peak. “Why bother when you can just tell me?”

“Junko” rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I’m so useless cooped up here? Do you even realize how many people I have under my finger?” A sly look crossed her face before it grew into a dazzling smile, her voice positively saccharine. “Who’s to say that your precious partner isn’t working for me as well?”

“What are the coordinates? What are you panning?” Makoto demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut diamond. 

“Why haven’t you asked Monaca? Or are you letting my little one sit in solitary by herself?”

“Tell me what the coordinates are.”

“Yaaaawn, are we done here yet? I’d got places to be.”

“JUST TELL ME WHAT THEY ARE.” With the last of his patience snapping, Makoto raised his hand and struck her, the slap of skin on skin ringing through the room. Immediately, his face dropped, his anger dispelling and his body growing cold with chills.

Regaining her composure, the woman shook her head and sighed. “You’ve gone too far this time. I can’t tell you what they mean because I didn’t write them.”

Makoto froze, his heart pounding in his ears, the roar of blood deafening. “...what?”

She chuckled, leaning forward to adjust her glasses. “You’ve known this entire time I’m not the real Junko. Don’t delude yourself into going any further.”

Makoto gaped before finding his voice once more. “I’m not sure what you-”

“Of course you understand. It’s the same thing day in and day out right? The dozens of us trying to throw you off her trail.” She squinted. “Though, you’ve never grown violent before.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think...” Makoto whispered, the guilt of his actions crashing down on him in waves.

“Exactly. You didn’t think. You’re so obsessed with the idea of finding her that you’re constantly breaking your own self-imposed ethics. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said you’re no better than her.” Her expression was knowing, but unapologetic. “Do you think you’re special?”

Makoto sat back into his chair, covering his face and breathing in deeply. With a loud, clear voice, he choked out, “Dismiss her, Kyoko.”

His partner replied over the intercom, the static imitating the distortion he felt within himself. “As you wish.”

\---

Kyoko looked at the mess of brown hair as Makoto fell asleep on his desk once again. With a sigh, she picked up the blanket from the floor and spread it over his shoulders. Carefully, she reorganized his desk and picked up the file, being sure to leave nothing behind. She then crossed off another day on the calendar. Today marked 53.

As she slipped out the room, she took her place next to Hina. Silently, the two women watched through the window as the slow rise and fall of his back gave the only indication of life within the room. 

“This is cruel,” Hina whispered, hugging herself. “I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

“I’m hoping for some good news soon. His condition isn’t getting any better.” Kyoko sighed.

Hina bit her lip. “And he’s never hurt anyone before...Hey Kyoko?”

The silver-haired woman drew her gaze away from the man in the room and met Hina’s clouded eyes. “Yes?”

“What would you do? If you learned everything you thought was real was just someone’s lie to keep you...I don’t know, in your delusion?” 

“I don’t know. I’ve always just wanted to live for myself.”

“Do you think this is living? Playing this game every day with his feelings?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think this is right? I just...” Hina inhaled and let it out slowly. “I can tell we're out of options.”

“I don’t know. I wish I knew.”

They were silent for a moment more, before turning away from the dark room, the lights timing out and flicking off.

“I’ve got one more question,” Hina started. “Do you think there’s a way to help him?”

“That, I do have an answer to.” Kyoko stopped as they reached the doors.

Hina fell in alongside her. “And that is?”

Kyoko’s voice was hollow, finally resigned. “No. I don't think so.”

Hina nodded as the two exited the hospital.

\---

_There is whisky in the water  
And there is death upon the vine  
And there is grace within forgiveness  
But it's so hard for me to find_

_How could something so fair_  
Be so cruel  
When this black sun revolved  
Around you 


End file.
